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Not a single thing about Bakugou Katsuki was fucking weak. He was smart, strong, and powerful.
So, can someone explain why the Bakugou Katsuki was too weak to knock on Deku’s damn door?
It happened every time.
It happened the first time Katsuki came knocking after the worst nightmare he’d ever had, the absolute dread of no response eating him alive until Deku somehow sensed he was there and opened it without Katsuki even knocking.
Since that night they made this stupid arrangement to sleep in each other's dorms when memories and flashbacks of the war kept one of them awake, and yet here Katsuki was, frozen. Paralyzed.
Fuck, his hands were trembling. He clenched his hands into tight fists, nails digging into the flesh of his palm. He closed his eyes to feel the dull pricks of pain.
The dread, the worry, the fear, was eating him alive again. What if Deku didn’t answer? That his worst nightmare was suddenly true? That he had failed?
A warm, rough hand covered one of his and his eyes flew back open.
Deku was there, emerald eyes far too warm and kind, looking over him with worry. Fuck, he was okay. He was there.
Without any words, Deku tugged Katsuki inside until he reached the edge of his bed, encouraging Katsuki to sit before letting go of his hand. Now relaxed from tight fists, small crescent shape indents pulsed with a dull ache as they faded away. Katsuki’s vision was tunneled, he couldn’t seem to look away from some spot on the floor as Deku draped one of his All Might themed blankets over his shoulders.
This was so pathetic, he was so fucking pathetic. He shouldn't need to see the damn nerd in order to reassure himself that he wasn’t living in a walking nightmare. That his worst fears hadn’t come true. He should be able to handle this on his own.
“You’re really cold,” Deku said softly, sitting beside him on the bed.
Katsuki didn’t feel cold, though. Usually he was sensitive to being cold, his quirk causing him to run a little warmer than everyone else. But right now, he didn’t feel much of anything.
Whatever. He saw the nerd, and he’s fine. He should be able to go back to his dorm and sleep normally, now. But why couldn’t he fucking move? Why could he never leave after Deku lets him in?
A warm hand was placed on top of his knee. Blinking, Katsuki finally pried his gaze away from the spot on the floor and down to Deku’s hand, helping lure him back out of his head. Katsuki huffed out a breath.
Katsuki wasn’t fucking weak. But he was so goddamn weak for this man. Deku was his tether to reality at this point. His lifeline.
“What the fuck am I supposed to do after we graduate?” Katsuki asked, the question spilling from him before he had as much of a second to think.
They had a plan since graduation was only weeks away. Katsuki had an offer at a hero agency lined up, and an apartment signed and ready to go shared with Kirishima, Kaminari, and Sero. Deku had already been offered a position to work for UA with accommodations provided not far from campus, of which he’d already accepted.
“What do you mean?” Deku asked, removing his grounding hand from Katsuki’s knee. He wished he could grab it and put it back.
“What do I do about this?” Katsuki gestured vaguely between them.
It had taken Katsuki a long, long time to come to terms with how he felt towards Deku. It was almost laughable, in retrospect, at how damn obvious it’d been the whole time. When Katsuki had poured his heart out to Kirishima over a year ago, he was unphased. Everyone knew, everyone had known.
But apparently Deku, the goddamn fucking idiot he was, didn’t seem to pick up on it. The goddamn fucking idiot Katsuki was in love with, hadn’t a clue.
It was fine. More than fine, even, if Deku never loved him back. Katsuki didn’t deserve his love, and he knew that. He barely deserved his adoration as they grew up or the care he received when he came to him like this, anyway.
But every single nightmare Katsuki had about failing, it wasn’t always only about not saving Deku. It was also about Deku never knowing why. Katsuki wasn’t weak, he wasn’t fucking afraid, but he didn’t have the guts to tell him to his face. He failed every single time he tried to, lashing out over something stupid instead to ease the anxiety in his chest that made him choke.
“Your nightmares?” Deku clarified. “Well, I’m sure your friends wouldn’t have any problem comforting you, if you’d let them. Plus, you could call me if you get really worried, I-I’ll do my best to answer.”
“That’s not what I fucking meant,” Katsuki snapped. “I shouldn’t have to fucking call you to know you’re still alive.”
Deku stiffened. It was subtle, but Katsuki could tell. He could always tell. He gets that same look on his face that he did back in middle school, when Katsuki made the biggest ass of himself that he’d never, never forgive himself for.
“I guess at least I’ll have the news headlines to let me know if you’re still around,” Deku said. “You’ll be too busy saving the world for my calls.” He finished with a weak, sardonic laugh.
“I don’t want you fucking worrying about me,” Katsuki scolded, frustration bubbling up in him.
“How am I not supposed to?” Deku asked. There was something in his tone that felt off. Like he was about to cry, but there were no tears in his eyes. Whatever it was, it didn’t sit right with Katsuki.
“Just, stop.” Katsuki reasoned, even if he knew it wasn’t exactly helpful.
“Right. Just stop.” Deku repeated. “Just stop being worried about you, off to be the best damn hero there ever was like you always promised you would. Just stop watching the headlines as you climb to number one like you’ve always hoped. Just stop caring about someone I’ve stood beside my entire life, who’s risked his life more than once to save mine.” Deku’s tone was still off, but now he looked…hollow.
“Why can’t you?” Katsuki asked, trying to get the nerd to identify an actual reason. It should be pretty fucking easy.
“You’re not stupid, Kacchan,” Deku was suddenly very, very angry and Katsuki was caught off guard from the sudden switch from hollowness he was a moment ago. It wasn’t his normal yelling-anger, either, one he knows he gets from Katsuki himself. No, it was his quiet anger. His calm anger. His scary anger.
“You know why I can’t just stop.”
No, no he really didn’t. Katsuki couldn’t wrap his head around a single reason why Deku would have any ounce of care left for him at this point, other than he was a self-righteous idiot who cared about everyone, but that didn’t make him special.
“You know, I’m starting to get really tired of this,” Deku continued. “We do this dance every night. We’ve been doing this dance for years, Kacchan. You act like you’re clueless, no matter how painfully obvious I make it. And here you are, telling me to just stop. It’s like you don’t know what you’re asking me to do.” Deku paused.
“I need you to stop pretending that you don’t know that I love you.”
“What the fuck, Deku?” Katsuki launched himself from the edge of the bed, the blanket falling off his shoulders and to the floor. He couldn’t tell if he was angry, but he did feel betrayed. “No you fucking don’t.”
Because he couldn’t. He wasn't supposed to. Katsuki didn’t deserve that from him.
“Yes. I do,” Deku stood, following him. His fists were balled at his sides, veins bulging as he approached. “And I know you do, too. Stop playing with me. Stop lying to yourself. Stop pretending.”
Katsuki’s eyes widened. He knew. Deku knew.
There was a hand to Katsuki’s chest now, forcing him backwards and against the only door he could escape through.
“I can’t keep doing this,” Deku whispered. Katsuki felt like prey backed into a corner of the wolf's den. Deku’s eyes were determined; fierce, and unforgiving, looking at nothing but him.
“Deku, I don't—’”
“No. Don’t argue with me. Don’t fight me.” Deku pushed against Katsuki’s chest harder and grabbed one of his hands, bringing it up to his own chest. Deku pressed Katsuki’s palm over his heart. “Do it. Hurt me. Tell me I’m wrong. Prove to me that you don’t love me.” Deku pressed Katsuki’s hand against his chest harder. “I dare you.”
But Katsuki can’t. He can’t hurt Deku, not any more. Not ever again. Because he does love Deku. But Deku’s not supposed to love him back.
Deku had closed his eyes, his expression uncharacteristically peaceful, as if content and at terms waiting for the final blow that would never come. Deku’s heart raced beneath his fingertips, pounding in time to his own. Despite his calm exterior, he was scared.
Katsuki’s chest ached. A deep, unforgiving ache that ate him alive. Deku was still scared of him.
And he couldn’t stand that anymore.
His hand against Deku’s chest curled into a fist, balling up his shirt, and Katsuki tugged. He tugged so hard that threads snapped and Deku came stumbling forward with a startled cry that was immediately silenced.
Katsuki kissed him. He kissed him like he’d never have a second opportunity to. He kissed him in a way that soothed that ache in his chest, pouring out his heart and soul between his lips. He kissed Deku in a way that begged him to never be afraid of him again.
And Katsuki was met with the same fervor. As soon as Deku seemed to register what happened, his hands latched onto the sides of Katsuki’s and he kissed him back.
Katsuki felt like putty. Like sticky, gooey, warm putty that would melt right through your fingers. He never thought he could have this. He shouldn’t have this, but here it was.
And somehow, he knew what would happen. When Deku’s breath hitched and a small, weak squawk escaped his throat, he pulled back and hugged him. Deku sobbed into his shoulder, growing pliant in his hands.
“I-I was so,” Deku choked over a hiccup. “So worried that I had got it all wrong.”
Katsuki scoffed, though it was soft. He gently combed through the curls at the back of Deku’s head as he cried. “I told you to stop worrying, damn nerd.”